


don't worry, the future still has pizza!

by calculus



Series: imagination is the destination [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, M/M, Original Character(s), Pre-Slash, casual ableist language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/calculus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, Stiles, what was going on between you and Mr. Hot Stud this morning? I saw some action going on, and I've been dying for details, so spill," Erica says slyly, leaning in the table. Stiles, startled by the sudden question, ends up inhaling a small wayward piece of pepperoni while chewing and treats both Erica and Amelia seating herself next to Stiles to a loud show of hacking and coughing, complete with half-chewed visuals.</p>
<p>"Ugh, <i>gross</i>," says Amelia, with a disgusted expression to match her tone, and frowns at Erica. "You couldn't wait until he at least swallowed? Really?" Erica grins unabashedly, shrugging.</p>
<p><br/>Or, in which Stiles takes his lunch break and tries not to hyperventilate <s>under interrogation</s>. Also, the Hale family is legion.</p>
<p>(the disneyland!au that you really didn't want)</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't worry, the future still has pizza!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mammaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammaria/gifts).



> this continues immediately from where [the future is today (so ready your rockets)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/567340) left off, so if you haven't read that one, you might be a little confused.
> 
> also, i'm pulling things out of my ass again because i don't know anything about disneyland/world employment, although a commenter has informed me that kiosk duty is within a separate realm from rides, parades, and shows. we'll just pretend for the purpose of this series that it's not ~~because i'm too lazy to change anything~~.
> 
> g-rated, but there is a fair bit of profanity, so you are forewarned to clutch at your pearls.

Stiles doesn't do anything else except hurry back to his gatepost after he's finished his routine inspection of the ride's safety bars and buckles, and he most certainly does not look back at Derek's cart in the front where Derek and his sister still sit, awaiting the ride's commencement. Stiles gulps because no, he can't actually feel Derek's ridiculous eyes searing holes into the back of his head, of course not, but just in case, he pointedly keeps his face pointed towards his fellow coordinators and nods to give his okay.

Erica, who sits at the control center podium, narrows her eyes at Stiles, and flicks her eyes to where Derek's sitting and back, with a smirk on her perfect ruby red lips. Stiles scowls slightly and flaps his hand in impatience, gesturing for her to start the ride before the kids mutiny. She rolls her eyes, but punches the button to run the ride, and cheers fill the dark room as the passengers start moving through the tunnel. Stiles smiles to himself at the children's enthusiasm, and resolves to put Derek out of his mind for the rest of the day because hey, he's got a job to do, happiness to spread.

-

Of course, life isn't ever easy for him, and he'd really like to give her such a knuckle sandwich for being the bitchiest Life ever, because Erica corners him after his shift's done for the morning while he's walking out of the building's side exits.

"Stiles! Don't think you're walking out of here without even telling me everything that happened this morning!" Erica calls out in the white-washed hallways, leisurely making her way to where Stiles had stopped dead in his tracks. She grins predatorily, and Stiles can only sigh and drag a hand down his face before offering his arm for Erica to grab.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he mutters. Erica, clearly hearing his complaint, only bares her teeth, and clings to his arm, french-tipped nails digging in slightly in warning. Stiles grimaces but gives her a small smile.

"Pizza Port today, yeah? I've been starving all day, and all I want right now is greasy artery-clogging goodness," says Erica as they walk out the doors into the blinding sunlight of the Californian day. She looks up with a hand shielding her eyes and smiles at the cloudless skies. "Ugh, I just love a good sunny day."

Stiles grins in amusement. "Yeah, try being outside all day in this kind of weather. Screaming kids, flying popsicles, and all the families milling about, grumbling about paying how many hundred bucks to stand in ninety-degree weather. Good times." He nudges them towards the shade under the line of trees dotting the edge of the park, sighing in relief once they step into the cool shadows of the pathway.

"Oh, Stiles, kiosk duty has made you so bitter. Where is all that childish excitement you keep telling us all about, that pixie-eyed glee you've got going on?" teases Erica, punching Stiles in the shoulder. He rolls his eyes to hide his slight wince. Erica never knows how to hold back her strength.

"Hey, hey, I'm still that bright sunny kid you guys know and love! Just, only where there's free air conditioning," Stiles replies, sticking his tongue out. Erica snorts and steers them out of the way of a running file of small children going toward their way. The kids pay them no mind, screaming after each other with abandon, and Stiles can't help but find it adorable.

Adorable and incredibly obnoxious, which is an opinion that Erica clearly shares, judging by the look of contorted amusement and annoyance on her face. Youth, a thing of beauty, he supposes, but it's becoming clear the longer he works here that it's passing him by without so much as a by your leave.

But, he tells himself as he closes his hand over the green handle of the Redd Rockett's Pizza Port, that's not for him to think about today. Eat first, then work, then go home to think about how much he's wasting his life away on the happiest place on Earth.

-

Stiles grabs a plate of pasta and a slice of pepperoni and then watches in slight horror, but mostly awe, as Erica piles plate after plate of veggie and the daily special pizza on her red tray until all the space is filled up. She places a slice of chocolate cake on top, as an afterthought, and raises an eyebrow when she realizes Stiles is just staring at her.

"What?"

Stiles shakes himself out of his daze, but jokingly prods Erica in the side. "But, where does it all go?" he asks in mock amazement, and Erica snorts and hipchecks him out of the way so she can get to the register before the lines fill up.

It's around one-thirty by now, and though most families generally stuff their faces in from eleven to one, there are still a great number of stragglers who come in around this time for a quick bite before hitting the rest of the rides. Stiles stands patiently in line a little behind Erica, waiting behind a nice middle-aged couple who are clutching their three-year-old's hand with such care that it makes Stiles a little nostalgic for his own childhood. Behind him is a big group of six, all chattering away about the rides they've went on this morning and how much fun this family trip is. The enthusiasm is, not surprisingly, catching, and Stiles finds himself grinning as his turn comes up.

Amelia's at the registers today, and his grin widens as he greets her.

"Hey, Amelia! How's it going? You just made it past rush hour, didn't you?" says Stiles, fingers tapping away at his tray, as Amelia punches in his meal. She smiles at him and nods, holding her hand out for his debit card.

"Yeah, it's always such a crazy time. So glad my break's coming up in about ten minutes," she says in obvious relief. Stiles digs through his pockets for his wayward card, and comes up triumphant a few seconds later with a yellow gummy bear speared at one of the corners. Amelia snorts and plucks the card out of his hand, popping the gummy bear in her mouth as she swipes it through the machine, and hands it back with a flourish. "Here you go, good sir."

"Thanks, uh, good lady," he replies, stuffing his card in a random pant pocket. "You should eat lunch with me and Erica, dude. We're on break right now too!"

Amelia grins in delight. "Oh, that sounds wonderful! Where are you sitting? In one of the back booths?"

Erica waves from where she sits in the circle booth nearest to the window and the building wall, and Amelia waves back. Turning back to Stiles, she beams and pats him on the shoulder before ushering him out of the way.

"Okay, that's enough for now, honey. Customers to take care of; go and wait with Erica for me," she says, waving forward the waiting group behind him. Stiles startles, remembering the people behind him, and turns around to apologize.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I totally forgot there were people behind me! Sorry to make you guys wait for so long!" blurts Stiles, tray precariously set in his hand as he flails with the other arm vaguely apologetic gestures. The group, made up of a couple of female adults and three children, stare at him amusedly. "I'm really really really sorry, I totally didn't mean--"

Amelia jabs him in the ribs sharply, cutting off his awkward babble, and jerks her head to where Erica sits, laughing her head off. Stiles blushes, can feel the heat burning bright on his cheeks, and scurries off to the booth without another word.

-

Erica mocks him for a solid three minutes as soon as he sets down his tray, complete with flailing motions with a slice of pizza in her hand. Stiles is torn between embarrassment and annoyance, and he eyes with a bit of wariness at the flopping cheese bits. Eventually, she gets bored, and goes back to stuffing her face.

This lulls Stiles into a clearly false sense of security because she springs the question on him while he's in mid-chew and Amelia's finally joining them at the booth with her own plate of pasta and drink.

"So, Stiles, what was going on between you and Mr. Hot Stud this morning? I saw some action going on, and I've been dying for details, so spill," Erica says slyly, leaning in the table. Stiles, startled by the sudden question, ends up inhaling a small wayward piece of pepperoni while chewing and treats both Erica and Amelia seating herself next to Stiles to a loud show of hacking and coughing, complete with half-chewed visuals.

"Ugh, _gross_ ," says Amelia, with a disgusted expression to match her tone, and frowns at Erica. "You couldn't wait until he at least swallowed? Really?" Erica grins unabashedly, shrugging.

"'S part of the fun, what can I say?" she says nonchalantly. Amelia rolls her eyes at her response and thumps Stiles's still coughing body on the back.

"Yeah, because the Heimlich is just so much fun to watch." At Amelia's sharp tone, Erica's grin falters and she ducks her head down in self-conscious guilt. Stiles would smirk in vindication at Erica's cowed demeanor if he could because nobody ever sasses Amelia Chen without getting the proper smack-down that her hardass Chinese parents instilled in her. Still, being under the stern I-will-beat-your-ass gaze that make even the most belligerent of parents want to cry (he's seen it before; the sight of a grown-ass six-foot-five man break down under a barely five-feet-two Chinese girl still gives him nightmares sometimes) is nothing Erica deserves, so Stiles nudges Amelia's shoulder as his coughs taper off.

"'S okay, man. Erica's just kidding, you know that," he rasps, giving Erica a look. Amelia snorts, but she smiles at Erica and levels off the glare. Erica shoots Stiles a grateful look, and finishes the rest of her pizza still in her hand.

"But, now that it's all safe to talk again, please do continue, Stiles. What's this about a hot guy?" says Amelia, grinning. Stiles flails a little, and slumps down in his seat.

"Not you too, Amelia. _Really_?"

She shrugs, sticking a forkful of penne in her mouth and chews. The raised eyebrow on her face, though, indicates he spill all or suffer all consequences, and Stiles sighs.

"It was nothing. Nothing happened. I just entertained his sister before she had a meltdown in the queue line, and he, uh, well...." Stiles trails off, his left hand rubbing the back of his neck while the other twirls his fork around his plate of pasta.

Erica made a derisive noise, and flapped her hand as if waving away his statement. "Seriously, Stiles? He was basically eye-fucking you the _entire_ time. Like, I could see it from all the way at the command center, okay, it was _that_ obvious. And that room is not the easiest to see in, okay."

He scowls in response. "He was _not_ , okay, Erica, he wasn't. I think I would've noticed if somebody was eyeing my nubile young body. I'd be the first one in line to get someone on the Stilinski ship of fun if that was the case." Amelia scoffs, and Stiles glares at her expression.

She smiles at him condescendingly and pats him on the arm. "Oh honey, let's not even kid ourselves. You are like the least situationally aware person there is. But that's not the point of this discussion, right now. What I want to know is how hot this guy is, like, gimme a scale from puppy adorable to fire volcano god hot." Stiles groans, and Amelia gives him a look that spoke volumes.

"He was hot, okay, yes, I totally concede this. And fit. And his ass, _oh my god_ , you could bounce a quarter off those cheeks, god I just wanted to--okay really why are you not stopping me _please make me stop talking_ ," Stiles begs off, covering his bright red face with his hands, feeling the burn of his cheeks. Erica snickers and kicks his foot under the table.

"Oh stop being such a pussy, Stiles, that's hardly the worst you've ever said," she says, rolling her eyes. She's on her fourth slice of pizza now, and she takes another bite before talking, chewing with her mouth open. "But, oh my god, Amelia, his face, though? Long lashes, gorgeous eyes even in the dark, and those _cheekbones_ and stubble? I'd bone him in a heartbeat."

Amelia laughs, distractedly, head turned towards the door. "Was he wearing a dark green henley and tight-ass jeans?" she asks, and Stiles frowns in consternation because that sounds exactly like what Derek was wearing and holy crap is Amelia psychic or something? He realizes he's said this aloud when Amelia turns back to give him an exasperated sigh and grabs his chin and points to the door.

Holy shit.

_Holy shit._

That's Derek right there, standing by the entrance way of Pizza Port, looking just as godly as Stiles remembered, holding Lily's hand. And, really, can life be anymore unfair because in the bright fluorescent light of the restaurant, Derek looks... _heart-stopping_.

A backhand to his gut snaps Stiles out of his wide-eyed stare and oh wow, air. He forgot that was a thing. Amelia looks at him like she wants to pinch his cheeks, and Erica is basically silent-crying with laughter at him right now. Stiles slinks down in his seat in embarrassment, nonetheless keeping Derek within the corner of his vision, watching him look around and then brighten before tugging Lily to walk towards the wall-side tables.

"I know who that is," Amelia says, and Stiles snaps his head to face her so suddenly he feels his neck bones creak. "That's Derek Hale."

"What what what _what_? How do you even _know_ that, man, is that, like, some mystical Chinese superpower of yours or something?" Stiles blurts out. Amelia looks unimpressed and oh god, the _glare_ comes out again, oh shit.

"That's fucking racist, dickbag, don't make me revoke your friendship card," she snaps, and Stiles raises his hands in apology, cowering before her.

"Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry, totally didn't mean that, I'm a dickbag, yes, I'm sorry," babbles Stiles, wincing. Amelia glares at him for an extra beat, and tosses her short brown hair over her shoulder with a huff.

"What Stiles meant to say was, how do you know who this 'Derek Hale' is, without the ridiculously insensitive bullshit," says Erica, leaning in and kicking Stiles in the shin this time. Stiles yelps, and rubs his leg, but nods frantically in agreement. Amelia rolls her eyes, but settles back down. She still punches him in the shoulder though, hard, and Stiles yelps again because today is clearly Stiles-is-a-punching-bag day.

" _Anyway_ , like I was saying, that's Derek Hale," she points discreetly over her shoulder at where he sits with the group of six that was in line earlier behind Stiles _holy crap_ , "and that's part of his family. The Hales make an annual week-long trip to Disneyland every summer before school starts, and they're ridiculously notorious for being both a huge-ass family and blindingly gorgeous." Stiles sneaks a peek again at Derek and his family, looking closely at each member, and wow, _yeah_ , they're all individually _hot_. Even the children are dazzlingly beautiful. Lily, in particular, will grow up to be a heartbreaker, Stiles notes, eyeing her dark brown pigtails and ruddy cheeks.

"When you say huge-ass, exactly how big is this family?" asks Erica curiously, now onto her chocolate cake. Amelia thinks for a moment.

"I did ticketing for them one year, and if I remember correctly, they ordered around thirty tickets or so? And that was for only one branch of the family," says Amelia thoughtfully, tapping her bottom lip. Stiles's mouth drops because holy fucking shit that's a lot of people. A lot of gorgeous-ass people who Derek was closely related to, who he probably sees daily, and wow, what was he thinking? Derek hadn't been flirting with him; he'd probably meant it nice, polite stranger-to-stranger way.

He slumps down even further in his seat, in abject horror at the thought of even hypothetically asking Derek out with thirty pairs of floating eyes all judging him. Wow, he didn't even know his dick could shrink into itself like that.

Stiles is blindly aware of Erica and Amelia exchanging glances and looking at him, but he's too deep in his pit of insecurity to even care.

"You look like somebody kicked your puppy and trashed your Xbox 360, Stiles. Why are you so upset?" Amelia asks, brows drawn together. Stiles shrugs and pushes aside his half-eaten pasta to lay his head face-down on the table.

"I thought he was flirting with me this morning," he confesses, muffled by the formica surface. Erica makes a triumphant sound, but a shush from Amelia quiets her down. "And, I mean, I was, like, kind of freaked out because why would anyone as hot as him flirt with me because, well--" He lifts a hand up and vaguely gestures at himself without moving.

Erica scoffs loudly, shifting the table a bit. "Oh come on! He was _so_ flirting with you! And you're hot, Stiles, don't be an idiot." Stiles raises his head with a scowl.

"Okay, even if he was, I'm still not in his league. I mean, I know I'm cute, I'm not fishing for compliments, but compared to him and his family over there? I'm fish food."

Amelia leans back into her chair, eyeing him consideringly, tapping her fingers against the table.

"Why don't we ask him then?" she asks, nonchalantly, and Stiles doesn't even have a second to ask what the fuck she's talking about because: "Hey, Derek! Derek!"

" _Holy fucking goats in a tea party_ Amelia, what the fuck are you _doing_?" hisses Stiles, immediately slumping down in his seat, as he watches Derek look up and scan the room for the person who called out his name. Amelia ignores Stiles's protests, and waves vigorously to catch Derek's attention, and oh my god is he smiling what the fuck he's coming over _holy fuck--_

"Amelia! It's been a while," says the guy of Stiles' wet dreams, with obvious pleasure. Derek stands over their table, hands in his jean pockets bunching up his shoulders a little, and oh my god, his biceps.

_His biceps._

Amelia smiles with teeth, and Stiles has never hated her more than he does right now. "Only since last month, you loser," she chirps and stands up to give him a hug. A hug of all things.

Stiles wants to curl up in a corner and die right now.

Erica, on the other hand, looks like the cat that's got the cream _and_ the canary, and bares her teeth in a predatory smile. "And how is it that you know Derek Hale, Amelia?" Yes, really, Amelia, how the fuck.

Said girl only smirks and looks directly at Stiles as she says, "He's my best friend. We grew up together."

_WHAT._

**Author's Note:**

> so, i started this once before but that original version got lost bc i'm an idiot and don't save and i use notepad to write my fics ahahahaha. anyway, i like this version better, so whatever.
> 
> i personally like amelia; i imagine her to be a no-nonsense kind of gal who likes to poke fun at her friends sometimes, and while it's awfully original (ahem) of me to make her derek's bffl, i thought it'd be nice to introduce more characters of color into the scene. because, it's _california_ , and there's a huge ass population of asians lazing about there that don't even make it onscreen in canon, which i think is a crying shame.
> 
> (i could be biased.)
> 
> anywho, this fic was written between the hours of 1AM to 5AM in two days, so any mistakes you find here or missing words are probably because i'm not actually supposed to be functioning at this hour. feel free to point them out to me though! :)
> 
> ps. hey maria, here's a shout-out for my second favorite californian.
> 
> **eta** : as a helpful commenter told me, harley already exists within the tw-verse as a black girl, and so in effort to not have any sort of erasure of poc characters, i've changed my oc's name to amelia! :) sorry for the confusion.


End file.
